


Luggage Intervention

by foreverdistracted



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverdistracted/pseuds/foreverdistracted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt in the Hobbit Kink Meme: "In one of his interviews Richard Armitage admitted that he didn't unpack for the first three weeks of filming, because he believed he wasn't good enough for Thorin's role." </p><p>Notes: This is a second fill to the prompt, the first was lovely as well. Thanks to my lovely proofreader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luggage Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> This is a second fill to the prompt, the first was lovely as well. Thanks to my lovely proofreader.

"Too lazy to unpack, are we?"

Richard glanced up from where he was feeling around the edges of his mattress. He smiled wryly at Martin. "No, sorry, just ignore those." He straightened and moved toward the bathroom. "I think I may have left my wallet somewhere here..."

Martin snorted. "What, ignore the mountain of dirty laundry piled on top of an open bag with clean clothes?" He toed the whole lot, which came tumbling down all over the side of the bag. "Fuck, this is positively criminal. Although, I wouldn't object to you ruining that horrible grey cardigan."

"It's from my stylist."

"Fucking _everything's_ from your stylist." He gingerly picked up an open-cuffed pale green thing from the mess and promptly let go. "Don't get me wrong, I do like some of her choices, but you need to have a talk with her about all these woolly things in your wardrobe."

Richard's soft laughter echoed in the bathroom.

"So what do you have against unpacking in general?" Martin asked. In the ensuing uncomfortable silence, he followed with, "You're not a lazy sort, even I can see that. Do you maybe not know how to unpack?"

"I _know_ how to unpack," Richard laughingly said as he emerged from the bathroom. He triumphantly held his wallet up in one hand. "Found it. Ready to go."

"Ohwowthat'samazing, but I would like an answer to my question now, please." Martin sat on the edge of the bed and looked expectantly up at Richard. "I wouldn't be this curious if you hadn't kept avoiding it. So what's up with the three bags of still ready-to-go luggage? And don't lie to me, I have a sixth sense about these things. I won't tell you whether or not I know you're lying, but I really will know, and I'll be secretly resenting you for the rest of our stay here."

Richard was starting to look a little overwhelmed (and maybe a little scared). He shifted on his feet, awkwardly wiped his hands against his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them, then hid them in his pockets. "It's just--" he began, his mouth still open to form another word, but he seemed to rethink it and started over. More slowly. "I thought maybe Peter, Philippa, and Fran will see that I'm not a good fit at some point and send me packing back home. Didn't want to go through all that unpacking business if I had to just put them back in again, yeah?"

Martin snickered. "But, it's..." His smile slowly vanished as he took in Richard's hunched shoulders and wary expression. "Are you serious? It's been three whole weeks."

Richard averted his gaze and stared at the floor instead.

"Jesus Christ, Richard."

" _Don't_ blow this out of proportion --"

"I'm not blowing it out of proportion, it _is_ out of proportion. Who thinks like that?! You're bloody well impossible. You know that, don't you?" Martin fished out his phone and began scrolling through his contacts. "Also, I was kidding about the whole human lie detector thing. You could have lied to me three ways from Sunday, and I wouldn't have known the difference, really."

Richard cursed under his breath. He glanced up and frowned when he saw Martin putting the phone against his ear. "What are you doing...?"

"I'm calling for backup."

 

"Martin, you really don't have to--"

"Apparently, I do." Martin hefted the pile of suits in his arms. "Or someone does, since you're not doing it yourself. Now shush and listen to Graham." He carefully picked his way toward the cabinets while throwing up a muttered prayer for proper hangers.

"Three weeks really _is_ a long time to still be doubting yourself, Richard," Graham said. He was seated on the bed, one long leg tucked underneath him so he could face the other man. Richard, also on the mattress, was hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them. 

"Would have been four if I hadn't spotted it!" Martin yelled from the other room.

Both men ignored him. "Especially at this stage," Graham continued, peering down to try and catch Richard's eye. "They have, what, five molds of your head in the studio? Philippa was beside herself when she found out you could sing-- "

Richard interrupted, his hands unclenching a little. "This isn't as big a thing as Martin's making it out to be." His blue eyes finally met Graham's, his gaze searching.

"Look mate, I'm sorry if all this fussing is embarrassing you--" Graham tsk'd as Richard ducked his head again. He wrapped an arm around the hunched shoulders and pulled the tense man close. "But we can't have you thinking you'd be booted off back to Britain at any second, all right? We've all seen what Peter and the others want for Thorin, and frankly, you're the only person I can picture for the role." He paused, his brows furrowing. "Is this why you asked Andy about casting and you went all quiet when he said they weren't done yet?"

Richard remained silent.

Graham frowned. "You do know they meant that for Bard, Dain, and the other characters, right?"

"Crossed my mind," Richard muttered.

Graham sighed in frustration and ruffled his hair. "You're _our_ Thorin, whether you like it or not. The sooner you start dealing with that, the less I can keep worrying about you." He nodded at Richard's surprised glance. "I _do_ worry about you, lad. And so does Martin now, and that can't be a good thing."

"Yeah, I usually don't give a fuck," Martin called out from the other room. "This is all new territory for me, who knows what I'll do." 

Graham smiled when he felt those tense shoulders relax a bit and shake in laughter. He gave Richard's arm a consoling pat before giving him back his personal space. In the other room, there were some hurried sounds of rummaging, then silence, and Martin's voice continued, "Richard, I've just about reached the underwear portion of your clothes, and I don't think you want me pawing through those, so you better get over here." He emerged from the open door, looking a little pleased with himself. "Or, at least, I hope you don't. I usually require dinner and a movie first."

"Yeah, I'll handle it," Richard said, smiling ruefully and heading for the other room.

Martin slumped in the vacated space beside Graham. They both watched Richard's retreating back until it vanished from view. "Was he like this from the start? I feel like I missed a memo," Martin said, keeping his voice low. They could hear the opening and closing of drawers and cabinets nearby. 

"Yeah, 's not really surprising," Graham replied, while rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "With Peter sick, everything's all up in the air right now. Prosthetics aren't done, script's always changing, and we're all just really tired from dwarf camp." He shrugged. "I think all that's messing with his head a bit."

"I suppose. Still, though..."

"Yeah, I know." Graham sighed and stood. "It's past lunchtime. Doubt he's eaten, so I'm going to get us some fast food. Anything you want?"

"Surprise me." Martin straightened and frantically looked around. He scooted over to the side of the bed and reached out for something off the edge. When he sat back up, he had in his hands the pale green outfit he'd spotted earlier and he quickly threw it at Graham. "Throw this out before you come back. Don't let him see you, though."

Graham stared at Martin for a second. He rolled the sweater into a ball in his hands and gave a brief glance to the open door where Richard was still arranging things. "You sure?" 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just dump it in the bin. His fans will thank us later."

\\\\\End///


End file.
